The High King Peter
by Lucy Pryde
Summary: Edmund and Lucy are celebrating their well-earned reward on the night before they return to England after helping to defeat Miraz. Peter looses his wits and hilarity ensues. A short one-shot, but could be made into a series. Movieverse, but I can change.


"Do you think they can hear

"Do you think they can hear?" Lucy wondered, absently twisting a lock of brown hair in her fingers. Edmund looked up from his mug of ale, a slight smirk on his face.

"Who, Lucy?" He took a sip. She rolled her eyes and tugged his sleeve playfully.

"The trees, silly! Do you think they can hear us in here, what with the lutes and harps and little Reepicheep on his bagpipe. I wonder if they're lonely," she said longingly as she looked out the castle window. After the last battle with Miraz, all Narnian soldiers were celebrating with some well-earned ale and delicacies such as fresh grapes from Bacchus's arbor.

Edmund sighed. "I'm not sure, Lu, but from the racket they're all making, I'd say they could."

"Would you like to go out with me, just to talk to them for a while? I promise we won't be long. Please, Ed," the queen pleaded, clutching her brother's arm. She saw indecision on his face. "Oh, come on. You said yourself that you're stupid compared to me." Edmund stifled a chuckle.

"No, I said that the last time I didn't believe you I ended up _looking_ pretty stupid." He rose, mug still in hand. "All the same, come on." A grin spread across Lucy's face as she dragged him out into the courtyard, where the trees had decided to take root. What was once a place of battle would be a place of peace. Even if the water their deep roots drew from the ground was saturated with Narnian blood, there would be serenity within Caspian's castle.

A cold breeze rushed through the night, blowing leaves from the nearest tree close to Edmund. They formed a gorgeous beech woman, with long and flowing hair that blew in a breeze. Edmund stared, mesmerized as she drew closer to him and whispered in his ear low enough that Lucy wouldn't hear. He blushed, and the dryad brushed the leaves that served as lips against his cheek before she blew away into the night breeze.

"What did she say, Ed?" Edmund seemed to find his shoes very interesting at that moment.

"Come on, tell me. Out with it, or have you _got it sorted_?" Oh so smugly, she clasped her hands behind her back and smirked.

"She said that if it were her choice, I would rule Narnia." Lucy elbowed him in the ribs.

"Someone's got an admirer, eh? I can see it now- you'll have lots of green babies."

"Oh, shut up. Besides, I didn't tease _you _about little furry children." Lucy's eyes widened "Come on, Lu- do you really think I _wouldn't_ notice when some bloke latched on to you?" Lucy turned even redder and hid her face.

"He didn't 'latch on' to me- he was simply holding his sword up to my height. And he's not 'some bloke.' His name is Currin." Edmund smiled.

"Well, then, I wish you and _Currin_ the best of luck, and may your children not be so ugly as I imagine them." Edmund drew his sword and started moving around the courtyard as he practiced his moves. Lucy remained still, fuming.

"You know, Edmund, I think you're right. We wouldn't want them to inherit Uncle Ed's ugly mug, would we?"

"Why I oughta-"

"_FOR ASLAN!"_ A scream echoed from the inside of the castle walls, loud and slightly wobbly. Edmund and Lucy rushed to the window, peering inside at the feast within.

What they saw surprised and scarred them for life. Upon the feast table in the middle of the room, positioned betwixt a plum pudding and a stuffed turkey was Peter. In both hands he carried mugs of ale, and with a smile on his face he was merrily dancing about the table.

Lucy and Edmund, much perturbed, looked at one another and burst out laughing. Clutching each other's arms, the merriment flowing from their mouths, they chuckled and chortled and had a good laugh.

Just as they were calming themselves, another shout shattered the night air, this time in song.

"_**o Anacreon in Heav'n, where he sat in full glee,**_

_**A few Sons of Harmony sent a petition;**_

_**That he their Inspirer and Patron wou'd be;**_

_**When this answer arrived from the Jolly Old Grecian;**_

_**"Voice, Fiddle, and Flute,**_

_**No longer be mute,**_

_**I'll lend you my name and inspire you to boot,**_

_**And besides I'll instruct you like me, to intwine,**_

_**The Myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's Vine."**_

"By George- Peter's singing "Anacreon in Heaven," in _Narnia_!" Lucy gasped through her tearful laughter. "Why do you suppose he decided to get drunk?" Edmund smirked and turned to his sister.

"Well, they don't call him the _High _King Peter for nothing!"


End file.
